Fifty
by Clara-Lis
Summary: He was a young man no more, but what type of man was he? James Bond retires and finds himself lost in a life where he doesn't quite belong. Long overdue middle age crisis, depression, scars visible and not. A deep love that has returned and prevails. This is James in search of James... and more.
1. Prologue

_Yesterday had been his fiftieth birthday. _

_Yesterday he had got up from the large bed of his Barcelona hotel room and spent a whole while staring at his own reflection in the mirror._

_He counted all the scars he'd acquired, since he first began wor__king for the MI6... 1 un his left elbow, the other perfectly round one from the bullet Moneypenny had shot three years ago, another on his right chest, two at the abdomen, plus the one at the back of his left shoulder. The most recent however, had not been from a mission and to him quite worse: the scar that graced his right knee—now it seemed, old age had prevented his broken bones to not heal properly._

_The most recent young lady to bed him was long gone. Long golden hair, golden skin, freckles and bright green eyes... legs that stretched out miles and miles. He could no longer remember her name, but knew by heart the species of bird that now sang outside his window._

_..._

_Skyfall had blown up forever and the land he had sold for much less than it valued. Now that Kincaid had died, there was no point in keeping it. With the money he bought his first home in thirty years, a three-story Georgian townhouse in Kensington, close to a park where he could jog and feel less like a breathing corpse and several pubs to drink and kill time. Perhaps the only thing that more or less disturbed him in the neighborhood was the fact that it was so family-like, so distant from the realities of espionage and terrorism—it was like living in a bubble full of smiling butter-comercial-like limbo._

_Moneypenny had told him that no matter where he went he'd feel that way, it was in him rather than in others. "You need to find a reason to live James, this is a young man's job." _

_Since he'd received compulsory retirement, he'd been working some days as a field consultant for the new generations and Eve had practically adopted him like a kitten, passing by at his place almost every week to "check on things". Or better yet, to see if he was still alive._

_She was the one who nailed his old governess, an eccentric and almost elfish little French thing by the name of Vianne. The lady dressed like she lived in Paris of the thirties but cooked, cleaned and had a musical taste like no other. She would sit with him in the living room, in front of the fire and they would drink whiskey in silence, Edith Piaf or Cole Porter playing in the gramophone in the background._

_The next thing on his list was probably to begin wearing plaid sweater-vests, caps and get himself seven cats. Vianne would laugh at him, lost in her own problems and loneliness... mumbling incoherent provençal things as she folded the laundry, sat by the window._

…

"_Bond, you're fifty for crying out loud, not ninety. Get your act together, go meet people, have fun, have sex at least! And don't look at me like that, once was enough!" Moneypenny had scolded him the other day. Have fun, meet people... After the life he had led for so many years, all those betrayals, the invisibles scars he could not count... how could he trust anyone, meet people?_

…

"_You're depressed." The doctor told him as James buttoned his shirt after routine tests. "And you're putting on weight which is no good to your health. Have you considered going out for runs, cycling, swimming, going to the gym or any of that, Mr. Bond?"_

"_Considered—yes. Done, no." The doctor who seemed to be just right out from medical school stared at him reprovingly. "But I suppose something can be arranged." The boy doctor smiled and sent him off._

_And so for two months he cycled around Hyde Park and made the effort to go swimming in the neighborhood's olympic-sized pool twice a week, even as winter came. He began to feel better, outside, but as he would walk into his home and look at his empty white-washed walls, nothing remotely personal, aside from his vynil collection and large array of alcohol and subsequent crystals. It taunted him. Who was he, what was his story? Somehow, there was something inside him nagging and nagging, wanting no more than for him to find out._

_He turned on his feet and went out again._


	2. Chapter One

**_Than_****_k you to Sunday and Saye0036 for the kind reviews._**

**~Clara**

* * *

_James closed the book and looked around. The sun was going down and parents began to gather their children to leave. Teenagers walked around in groups, talking and laughing. A young couple held hands as they passed, tucked away in the lovely illusion that was love. He wouldn't give them two months._

_He got up and took his new phone out of his back pocket. A black modern contraption thing that you could type in without pressing buttons. Putting on the headphones, he slid his finger on the screen and Mahler's Simphony Nº 4 in G Major invaded his ears. He walked home without a hurry in the world. It kind of made him... glad._

…

_As he arrived Vianne sat on the living room sofa with Moneypenny next to her, both sipping tea while waiting for him to show up. On top of the tea table, a white envelope with the MI6 stamp._

"_Bond—hi." Moneypenny said with a grin as she got up and extended her right hand for him to shake. He did so, for politeness' sake, but couldn't understand why she was being so formal. Until he noticed a third tea cup, on the tray._

"_Eve—what is this about?" She sighed heavily and had that look in her eyes that meant he would be upset._

"_It's about a past mission—the one with Le Chifre..." James flinched at the mention of this name. He had only agreed to rest when he figured the higher branches of Quantum had been diminished and the lower ones would soon be eradicated. "It's about a person in specific..."_

_He glanced at a second quite fancy handbag on the couch, a legitimate black Chanel. He knew exactly who would've carried one of those around. A certain woman he'd met on a train. A certain woman he'd rather forget. He suddenly felt something in his chest, a strong pain and the memory of the heart attack that had almost killed him years ago came rushing in. Suddenly, everything seemed like they were falling on top of him, his back burned from pain and everything went black._

…

"_So he had a heart attack?" He could hear the whispers of Moneypenny talking to James' doctor and Vianne reciting Hail Mary's on her rosary, quite possibly praying not to lose her job._

"_No, ma'am, he fainted really. Must've been the shock of his life, the almighty James Bond going down like that..."_

"_When can he come home?" Vianne asked in her heavily accented English._

"_To be safe, tomorrow morning I shall sign his leave."_

…

_The nurse came by with a tray of soup and buns. He refused to eat._

…

_That annoying little thing added more of some medicine to his IV and he fell asleep. What he really wanted was to get up and leave._

…

_Vianne arrived in the morning with a special breakfast for him. Earl Grey tea with just a drop of milk and apple pie, his favorite. She pat him on the head as if he were just a boy and turned to sit on the uncomfortable sofa, waiting for the doctor to arrive. He held her by the wrist and she turned to look at him._

"_She called to ask how you were—twice." Vianne said, showing the number two with her fingers. "Very beautiful she is... must've really hurt you for you to faint like a teenage girl..." She chuckled and so did he, but deep down, there was no humor in it. He was a pathetic old man who's most potent demons had decided to come and torture him. By far that bitch was the worst of them all, with her soft skin and brown curls... her smile, her huge blue-gray eyes and her witt. She should be dead and buried._

"_What did you say, Vianne?" The old lady shrugged._

"_I said for her to come see you." James' hands rolled into fists, his knuckles turning white. Vianne knew he was angry but ignored his petty reactions with huff. "The only way to overcome your weakness James is to face them. She said she would leave her daughter with a nanny and come._

"_She had a daughter?" Vianne nodded and sat on her couch doing her needlework, tired of talking to him of these things._

"_Eh, she's not so bad, mon ami."_

…

_Night came and James paced the floors of his living room, hands shaking erratically. Vianne was in the kitchen preparing tea, coffee, biscuits and cakes to offer the guest. It wasn't everyday that a beautiful woman would come inside—well, besides the Moneypenny who was only interested in being a friend._

_They heard the bell ring and suddenly James panicked, but Vianne came in and whispered for him to pretend to be calm and leave the room, only to make a grand entrance later. Those dramatic Frenchmen. But he complied with her and entered his study._

_Vianne opened the door with a smile and was surprised to see the expected guess with a nervous expression on her face, carrying a child in her arms._

"_Pardon, Vianne... I couldn't find a nanny." Vianne nodded and motioned for them to come inside, muttering that it was no problem at all. The little girl was wrapped in a navy coat with bright red scarf, jeans and red ballerina flats with striped socks. "This is my daughter, Luna." The younger woman sat Luna down on the armchair. The little girl couldn't be older than four, with bright eyes the exact shade of her mother's and the same brown curls held back by a headband._

"_I'll go fetch James..." Vianne said, motioning for their guest to sit. Goodness were these people tense._

…

_James walked inside ready to say something completely inappropriate and offensive, but was taken aback by the little girl that munched on a biscuit. He stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck, and then turned to her mother who stood behind the armchair, gripping at it as if her life depended on it._

"_Vesper..." She sighed and looked at him for the first time in almost eight years._

"_James..."_

"_Mama, can I have one more?" The two adults stared down at the young child who was completely unaware of the—significance of this moment. Vesper let out a raspy laugh, mixture of nervousness and relief._

"_So she's yours?" Vesper nodded , biting on her lower lip. _

"_Luna, this is James—he's an old friend." Luna smiled shyly at him, blushing a deep red. "And before you ask," she said turning towards him with a knowing smile, "I'm not your type."_

_James raised an eyebrow and as much as he hated himself for it, cracked a smile._

_Vianne walked in, inviting Luna into the kitchen for some hot cocoa, leaving the past lovers all alone._

"_You've some guts..." He said, this time less kindly._

"_I—tried talking myself out of this, I really did... but I figured. James, there's no longer anyone who can prevent me from coming to you anymore, even if to simply apologize." She heaved in a sigh. "God this is damn hard...I was transferred back to London from France a year ago and found out your boss has been gone for a while. I supposed I thought it was the right moment—I don't know. Usually I just try to erase my past, my memories—but I'm tired of it. I have a four-year-old who most days drives me mad, a job that is so, so demanding and I can't seem to live in peace! I'm not someone named Vivienne like in the passport they issued me. I'm Vesper and I want to be able to be Vesper." She vented, running her hands through her hair, erratically._

_James didn't know what to say. Neither of them did._

"_I really don't have any guts, as you said, or I would've come sooner."_

_They sat there in silence for a while. Vesper didn't even touch her tea. Nor did he._

"_Where's her father?"_

"_I've no idea... I slept with him once—nothing extraordinary." She mused. "I do love her though."_

_James nodded._

"_You know what's extraordinary?" Vesper looked at him intrigued. "That you're here, back from the dead, in my house... and I still want you."_

_Her eyes went wide._


	3. Chapter Two

**Than****ks to Atomix330, Saye0036 and Sunday for the kind reviews—they certainly brought a smile to my face! This one's a bit short, but crucial for what comes next! Feedback is love!**

* * *

_He rolled around in his bed, not being able to sleep. Vesper had left abruptly after that last thing he said, like a slap to the face. He had never in life felt so insecure towards a woman—and this one had broken his heart before. Simply left him. He hated her for that, for dying in his life, however, there was this other part of him, the part of a man hungry for love—which he never regarded and for most part scorned—that felt almost... hopeful. Beyond all of that, Vesper was a woman with a huge baggage, easily compared to his. She was an unusual, inscrutable character... with a young child, which also overwhelmed him._

_James glanced at his bedside clock marking 3:07. He huffed and kicked off his sheets, walking downstairs to the kitchen, as quiet as he could. As he approached the room he heard shuffling and imediately went into 00- mode._

"_Put down the vase! Put down the vase..." He heard, followed by a string of French swearing. Vianne turned on the lights and crossed her arms over her chest. Her silver hair was up elegantly, but tousled by sleep, she also wore a pair of Bordeaux-colored silk pajamas that James had never expected from such an ancient thing._

"_Vianne! What are you doing?" Vianne snorted and frowned deeply, almost like a child. There definitely was a childlike shine in her turcquoise eyes._

"_I cannot sleep with you moving around in that bed all night, so I decided to prepare you some chamomile tea..." James stared at her suspiciously for a moment and she responded with a roll of her eyes, pushing the teacup towards him. James sat on the island stool and she opposite him, waiting for the right moment to speak. _

"_What?" He barked, but Vianne knew he didn't mean to be rude. James Bond very early on had convinced himself that feelings, love, none of that mattered and pain and heartbreak were all to be compartmentalized in his brain, only to reappear in the moments where he gave up trying so hard. And now he wasn't, although he was trying to recontinue the vicious circle._

"_Why did she leave so hastily? What is the story of you two?" James looked into his cup of tea and began to stir with the tiny silver spoon again._

"_I loved her—she betrayed me. I thought she was dead all this time... she hasn't been. Eight years, Vianne, eight bloody years." He stared coolly at the wall behind her, he was James Bond, trained to fight, to kill, to conceal. He would not cry._

"_That's not a full story, James, that's the summary of a Harlequin novel." James snickered. "I think you have a damaged ego and it's not because Mademoiselle Lynd reappeared out of nowhere, it's because despite everything you still have feelings for her—and to be honest James, she's got one too. Pride takes you nowhere but a dark, lonely pit."_

"_What a beautifully woven novel Vianne... It's not that simple."_

"_Why not?"_

"_I can't forgive her." He shook his head in Denial, sipping his already cold beverage. "I simply can't."_

"_Or you can't forgive yourself for forgiving her?" Vianne questioned staring deep into his eyes. It almost pained him. The infuriating woman got up and left him alone, retreating to her own bedroom, leaving him with the stupid rope-like question hanging in the air, threatening him... taunting him._

…

_She leaned on the rail of her balcony with a cigarette on, the cold autumn wind hitting her cheeks providing the much needed numbness. Luna lay fast asleep in her bed, her favorite cloth doll tucked under her chin._

_Her parents had been spot on with her name. For a child who's name referred to the evening star, she was surely kept up until very late more frequently than should be considered healthy. She'd been a coward. She left... his words echoed in her mind, left her insides in shambles, spinning. She'd expected anger, denial, violence even, perhaps. She'd expected indifference, hate... never that, never to know he still desired her, maybe even loved her. She didn't deserve it... James. She wanted him to have ruined and humiliated her so that she would have hated him too and left. Turned around and continued to live her life, no longer having to acknowledge him. _

_Perhaps it was she the one in denial._

_A sob she didn't know she'd been resisting burst out and soon after hot, frustrated tears... the oxygen never seemed to be enough for her lungs anymore, not after she'd drowned in Venice. That had taken her years to get over, she still hadn't, not completely. Luna asked her, Mama, can we go swimming? But she never did because she was a coward. Because she was afraid of trying again, of taking her own life once more._

…

_Vianne lay in her bed with the picture frame pressed to her bosom, like a baby. She owed it to her late husband to help James, to help that disenchanted woman he loved. Skeletons just kept creeping out of the closet... How she missed the brightness of his eyes. Sometimes she saw the light in James._


	4. Chapter Three

The morning had been madness. Vesper had slept nothing and when at six she entered her daughter's room to wake her for school, the little one was coughing and burning with fever. She shouldn't have let Luna wash her hair last night... but she told her not to

"Luna, it's cold, don't get your hair wet, all right?" The little girl complained and pouted when Vesper tried to tie her hair in a knot.

She'd been very fussy lately, probably because she still hadn't adapted to the new school and home. Luna barely spoke English, although she understood perfectly. The child missed going to their favorite book café in Paris and spending their Saturday afternoons reading and walking around the streets of the 16th arrondessiments of Passy.

Vesper set her home phone in it's base on top of the kitchen's granite counter. She'd called Luna in sick at school and sighed heavily. Her boss hadn't been happy to hear she'd be gone from work for another three days. She'd have to work from home to finish this month's progress reports, due in less than two days. Ottilie, the nanny she had interviewed and deamed the best had family and school problems to tend to and was unavailable for the rest of the month. Never had it been this difficult.

In Paris, she always had the assistance of her elderly neighbor, Johanna, who tended to Luna as if she were her grandchild. Paris was far away, not too far... She'd made a decision to return, to see James, to apologize and face their past. It hurt deeply—she felt helpless and overwhelmed and about to burst from stress. For the first time since she'd found herself seven months pregnant and about to deliver her baby prematurely, Vesper found herself longing for her deceased mother.

"Maman..." She heard the raspy call from the other room. Vesper grabbed the tutti-frutti flavoured cough medicine rushed into her daughter's bedroom. Vesper sat on the edge of the bed and caressed Luna's pale cheeks lovingly.

"I'm here, I'm here... I'm so sorry you're sick, little owl." Luna nodded slowly and cringed from a headache. "But we're going to get better, thanks to Mr. Fleming who discovered penicillin by accident."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Here," Vesper gave her a spoonful of the pink antibiotic, followed by a glass of water. Thank heavens Luna had never minded medicine, well, as long as it didn't taste too bad. "how about I lay here next to you and read you that new book?" Luna smiled weakly, followed by an excited "aham".

They read the book "Where the Wild Things Are", which was simply beautiful. Despite being a woman of finance and the exactness of mathematics and such, Vesper had been raised the daughter of artists, she herself a reluctant one, if her writings and paintings were any indication. Beyond that, she loved to play on the piano and sing. It was good therapy, made her feel alive... she'd never been bold enough however, to consider herself apt for a career in the arts. No, she also had her fancy whims... so she crunched numbers by day and finger painted at night.

…

Five in the afternoon and her report was 80% complete. The fact that Luna slept almost all day helped, but now it was she who needed to bathe, eat and sleep. The frozen lasagna in the fridge would have to do. The phone rung and she groaned. Her bath was already awaiting her.

…

"Vesper Lynd" She said solemnly, hoping this wouldn't take long. Her head was throbing and her back ached like it never had from sitting for so long.

"It's me."

"James! Oh..." Vesper ran her fingers through her unruly curls nervously. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine." She couldn't tell if it was true. With James Bond everything was a mystery, an adventure, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Nothing's fine, what is it?" She fired back, "You're certainly not one for small talk."

"Nor are you, as I recall..." He said more softly and Vesper knew exactly what she was doing. He was trying to lure her in, seduce her like he had hundreds of others. She wasn't them and she was too old for little games. Honestly, she was tired. "Come over." He demanded and his tone was almost desperate.

"I'm not going to roll into bed with you, don't even think about it. Besides, Luna is sick in bed with a throat infection—not the best moment for a flashback session."

"I'm not asking you into bed with me woman," he said rather annoyed, "I'm wounded you can only think of me that way. I just wanted to talk."

Vesper sighed. He was right. James was a ladies' man and certainly fell in the category of those hopeless bohemian bastards who lived of adrenaline, a good drink and a good lay. However, she remembered it being quite different.

She never had to tell him her favorite color was red. He knew because most of her clothes were. She never had to tell him her favorite flowers were daisies... somehow he knew. She also knew he loved walking around the house in socks. He loved watching westerns and football, his team was Manchester United. He read the newpaper every morning and even though he hated it, he always read to her the main article of the finance journal during breakfast. He was a man who cared.

"Luna's sick James, I can't leave my apartment." she could hear some shuffling from the other line and a long moment of silence. "James?"

"Where do you live?"

…

Vesper had to settle for a shower, before she gave Luna another dosage of her medicine and decided to prepare spaghetti instead of the lasagna. Maybe he'd want to eat as well.

He arrived as she poured the pasta in the pan of boiling water, and the ragù was already cooking. He knocked twice and she rushed to the door.

As she swung it open James stood there with a sober expression and a dish of some kind. Vesper stared at him and then the dish, not knowing exactly what to say.

"I'm cooking spaghetti al ragù."

"I could tell, smells nice. This is from Vianne. She said never to show up at people's homes this late an hour without something to offer..." He rolled his eyes at the rule of etiquette. Vesper chuckled and let him in.

"She's a smart one. Lately all I've done is think with my stomach." Bond raised a brow and cracked a smile. She on the other hand couldn't believe she'd said that out loud and blushed profusely. She motioned for him to set the porcelain dish on top of her dining table, that was half clear and half full of papers and folders from work.

"You're cute when you turn red..." He said, but before she could digest that he eyed her papers curiously, "working from home?" She nodded, shrugging.

"What did you bring for us?"

"Tiramisù." he said. "Don't you have anything on your stove?" Vesper's eyes went wide as she rushed into the kitchen and turned off the fire under her ragù, it was more than ready. The pasta too needed only a stirr and a few minutes more.

"I guess we're having an Italian dinner..." Vesper mumbled, reaching for plates and searching her drawers for placemats and cutlery. "Mind setting the table while I fetch some wine?" He grabbed the items and did as asked.

As she disappeared inside her pantry, he looked around. The apartment was quite spacious and very well decorated, he'd never expect less from her. However, it was colorful, cheery and so personal... quite different from his. There were pictures and artwork everywhere, as well as books and shelves. What caught most of his attention was the antique vertical piano that stood proudly on one wall with a vase of daisies and a stack of music books.

He heard her quietly approaching him from behind.

"You've a nice home."

"And nice wine." She completed, inviting him to sit down as she handed him the bottle and an opener, going back to the kitchen to bring in the food. "There are goblets in the..."

"Yes, I know, already got them."

"Oh." She said as she came in carrying their meal. They sat awkwardly opposite each other and ate in silence for a while.

"You're not the best homemaker in the world, Vesper." she nearly choked at the comment, having to take a sip of her wine.

"Well, James I never intended to be one." She didn't know why but his comment made her feel irritated. How rude and chauvinistic of him! Men were all the same...

"That's not what I meant to say..." She raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Than by all means, do explain."

"You're not the best but you're not bad either. You weren't made for this, cooking and tending to a home. You're a business woman, however you adapted very well. I admire you because I wasn't able to adapt."

"You admire me?" He shrugged and took a sip of his wine. "It's much more complicated than it sounds. I'm going through a whole different experience here in London... It's never been so hard. You can't imagine how I _long_ for Paris."

"Hmm. I'd never long for Paris." Vesper laughed heartily. He was such a Brit. He smiled.

Bond was so handsome when he smiled.

He was happy to have made her laugh.

They would be all right... for now.

* * *

Thanks to all of you who followed, favorite-ed and commented! Please continue to do so!

Great thanks to Sunday, Atomix330 and my baby sister Julia who just turned 8 for being my main inspiration for Luna!


	5. Chapter Four

Two days passed since the dinner. Vianne kept filling his head with things like "she still loves you" and "you are such a daft-minded prick." Bond of course, went on ignoring her. A phone call came in from Moneypenny, his services were needed in headquarters for a few days, training and advising the newest double-0. The new and improved 26-year-old 007.

Each night he returned home to supper waiting for him upon the stove, darkness and a cold, empty bed. Today was Vianne's day off, so instead there was Chinese take-out. He didn't even bother heating it up, ate it in record time and buried himself under his covers. He couldn't sleep, he was worthless, he'd been replaced. There was a new 007 now—strong, handsome, young, agile... he was no longer needed and thoughts of M and Moneypenny calling him for consultations only for pitty plagued him. How could he possibly sleep?

…

Vianne stood in the middle of the tastefully decorated apartment, with a basket of home-baked cookies and a jar of apple jam. Mademoiselle Lynd stood opposite her in a long, emerald-green silk robe, her hair messy from having been asleep.

It was way passed midnight but if Vianne didn't come now, she probably would never find the courage to later. She was not brave like her husband, nor was she that fearless young actress who moved audiences to tears and laughs. Time had made her warry, tired and she hated to admit it, cowardly. But she couldn't risk it with James, he was her responsibility, she had made a promise.

"Vianne—has something happened?" Vesper asked, accepting the gifts and inviting the older woman to sit on the couch.

"You have happened—again." The two stared at each other for a long moment.

"I don't want to hurt him..." Vianne nodded, tears filling her eyes.

"But you hurt him in the past and now you have to help him heal. Mr. Bond is not all right, he's depressed, he wont admit it to anyone. He barely sleeps, barely eats—today may have been the worst day yet, he seemed almost distraught." Vianne took Vesper's hand between her's and gently caressed it. "I can tell you are a good person, although you have your own flaws and problems—but tell this old woman, put her heart at ease, why were you did for so long?"

Vesper sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling, a deep frown on her face, tears threatening to emerge, that she fought with all she had.

"I-I didn't know what else to do. I loved James from the moment he said all these insulting truths about me. I hurt his ego myself, but he made me feel boiling in anger in one moment and in the next my knees were like jello. I fought it and fought it, I had another man at the time, he ended up being a double-agent, a terrorist—I hated myself for being so naïve... but then there was this man, being so honest and open with me... I allowed for him to take me under his wings. I allowed myself to take him under my wings too. The two of us, can you imagine, two damaged birds, one helping the other, loving the other."

"And then?"

"And then I began seeing them everywhere and it was terrorizing—how was I to tell him I betrayed his beloved queen and country? They sent me a message, said I needed to take them the money or they would kill him. I couldn't let that happen, I would never live in peace—,"

"Darling they were never going to let you live in peace either way..." Vesper nodded.

"So I handed him the case with the money and everything happened. I drowned. I could've let him save me but I didn't—I was trying to protect James from myself," Vesper had tears streaming down her cheeks and a sob escaped her lips. "I ran away from the hospital a few days later, he was back on the job and on the mission. I contacted his boss, I told her everything and she offered to put me in witness protection. I moved first to Switzerland, every four months I was transferred to a different city, until she landed me a job in Paris. I couldn't say no."

"And why suddenly return?"

"She died—no one could protect me anymore, so hidden from the Quantum or hidden from James, what difference would it make? I learned that life is too short to just give up on certain things. I had a baby and everyday I saw how much she changed, developed and grew until now. I grew along with her and I made a decision, I would return to London, just so I could confront him, look at him and say—James, I'm here, I'm alive and I'm a whole different person."

Vianne squeezed Vesper's hand firmly and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"My dear, I know exacly what you feel."

…

The night couldn't be longer.

…

Vianne had spent the night with Vesper, they ate some cookies and tasted some wine. Wine however was never good when the spirits were low. Early Friday morning and she could feel the delicious scent of coffee floating in from the kitchen. Vesper ran around preparing breakfast and putting on her fancy work clothes as her daughter sat on the sofa in her pajamas, watching Peppa Pig while munching on toast with nutella and a glass of strawberry and milk smoothy that Vesper had noisily prepared.

"Doesn't she have school?"

"She's still got the cough and is feverish... the nanny should be arriving any minute now." Vianne nodded and sipped on her own coffee.

"She's a lovely girl, you're a very talented babymaker." Vesper blushed and illicited a small chuckle.

"If only life was just making babies." Vesper mumbled.

"Oh, but it can be." Vianne mumbled back, eyeing the younger woman through her coffee mug and winking. "making babies is a lovely passtime."

"Say, Vianne—do you have any children?" Vianne paused for a moment, deep in thought and shook her head.

"But I have lots of practice making them. I was quite the exotic, irresistible little thing back in my youth. British men love perfumed French meat." Vesper nearly choked.

"Hmpf. Meat?" Vianne shrugged with a knowing smile.

"Why Vesper, you think I haven't noticed this French thing about you?" Vesper released a laugh, that even her daughter turned around to look at, curiously.

"Maman, what is it?" Luna had that mischief-making little grin about her. Vianne could already tell it would be a long day for the nanny.

"Nothing, little owl... Would you like an apple to eat?" Luna shook her head.

"Is Vianne staying with me today?"

"Luna, Vianne isn't a nanny, she's a friend."

"But she said that she was your friend's nanny!" Vianne chuckled and nodded.

"Indeed, I am. Perhaps you can come visit me another times. My big little boy isn't too fond of sharing."

"Didn't his mum teach him?" Vianne looked down into her coffee for a split-second before irradiating a smile.

"Poorly."

Vesper watched Vianne for a moment. The lady had gotten her to open up last night, pour her feelings out to her, as if she'd been in the very safe presence of a friend or even her own late mother, yet, Vianne continued to be a mystery. Next time, it would be the governess' turn. Yes it would.

…

James got out of bed the minute he felt the first few rays of sun penetrate the curtains of his bedroom. He needed to be out of the house, now, or he was afraid he'd explode.

* * *

**Than****k you all for the continued support! A special thanks to my unofficial Beta, Atomix330.**


	6. Chapter Five

It was a great feeling, the wind hitting his face, the winding countryside roads. He had needed to get out, away from home. Think clearly.

He had no destination, just turned when he felt like it, went north when he thought there would be better things to see, west when he wanted a better view of the sunset. An entire day behind wheels, non-stop. He hadn't done such a thing since he was nineteen years-old, when he bought his first motorcycle.

For the most part of his life he always went where he was ordered to... so when he stopped in a small village in the middle of no where with just a small castle to showcase turists, he decided it was time to eat, drink, get some sleep—there was a bed and breakfast, with a lovely garden and middle aged couples sitting down for tea.

"Good afternoon sir, any reservations?" He shook his head.

"No."

"I see... well you're lucky we still have a suite available, a lovely one might I add. Has a small balcony facing the garden and woods... are you here with company?" She was too chirpy for her own good.

"No."

"Hmm, well, breakfast is served from seven until half-past ten and lunch or dinner can be arranged, with a fee." He nodded.

James signed the book and filled out the papers, receiving the bedroom key with a wood-carved key-chain of a little owl.

"Our rooms here aren't numbered but have the theme of a bird. This area is popular among birdwatchers." James barely acknowledged the young lady and made a beeline for the stairs.

He found his room with the portrait of a tawny owl hanging on the door, at the end of the corridor. As he entered, he fell on the soft and fancy covers of the large bed and instantly fell asleep, barely acknowledging his hunger.

…

He awoke too early, the sun wasn't even up yet. Acording to the lovely omega watch on his wrist, the time was 3 am. He looked around, stomach grumbling—Vianne was spoiling him too much, and dashed toward the mini-fridge which held not only water bottles but a boxed sandwich, various assortments of juices and key lime pie in a small box.

He ate and ate and ate until he was stuffed. He hadn't been eating with pleasure lately, in fact, had none. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone for a drink at a fancy place, dressed to the nines and charmed his way into the bed of a beautiful young woman. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been with one.

He felt no energy for the chase anymore. What was the whole point? Drink, charm, room, sex and leave early in the morning, no strings attached. He was too tired for no strings attached, but at the same time he lacked in motivation to actually woo someone. Moneypenny was off limits, and for now so was Vesper. He didn't know what to think of her, she had a child—children were something he'd never wanted, never thought of. He didn't want to put a child in the world to suffer just as he had.

There was knock on the door.

He got up reluctantly about to mutter something rude when he caught eye of a rather lovely lady, probably in her late twenties, light brown hair and green eyes.

"I'm very sorry, I lost my room key and this one has an adjoining door, I was just meaning to pass through—there's no one ate reception." He nodded and let her in, admiring her good looks. She had beautiful, long, golden legs.

"I'm Romane—Harris." She offered her hand to shake, shyly and he politely complied.

"Bond—James, Bond."

"Well, Bond, thank you for your kindness—I hope I didn't disturb you—too much." He caught her eying him up and down, he had only his black underwear on. So long for solitude.

"A lovely lady is never disturbing—," He leaned in closer and felt almost guilty. But on what grounds? "Listen, would you like to stay a while?" She frowned. He could no longer tell if she was interested in him... sexually, or any other way. "to talk." She smiled and nodded.

"Sure, let me just change into something more comfortable. Five minutes—stressful day today." He nodded and decided it was best to put his jeans and shirt back on. They could always dress down again.

…

They sat on the two whicker chairs on the balcony, having some drinks, courtesy of both their room services, munching on biscuits and sharing laughs and stories. Turns out he hadn't wanted to go straight to bed with her, this one was different and he found himself obsessing over her raspy laughs.

"What do you do for a living?" He asked, pouring more wine into both their glasses.

"I'm a lawyer. I've an office with my older brother in Surrey, but I live in London. You?"

"I'm retired... I was a naval commander." It was so much easier... but was hardly the truth.

"I see—serving your country all your life." She smiled. "My dad was in the navy as well, but when he met my mum, he began studying and now owns a dentist's practice in Mayfair." She made a face. "They've been married nearly fifty years. Do you have any family?"

"No, not at all. I was orphaned at a young age and my aunt Charmian, who finished raising me passed when I was in my thirties. No wife, no children, no siblings..." He trailed off. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky and the trees of the wood before him a lovely lavender, pink and orange. "I'm all alone."

"Well, that's not a great way to be, Mr. Bond... I just buried my husband." She said out of the blue. "He wanted to rest in the place we first met, he said it was the happiest day of his life. We were nine." She said turning and looking at him with a grin. "We were nine and it was the happiest day of his life—the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. But he was like that, all romantic and considerate and sensitive. I on the other hand am all no-nonsense—but we worked out, some how."

"I'm sorry about your loss."

"I—It didn't come as a surprise to me anymore, he'd been in a coma for two years and three months. I'm already completely used to not having him around anymore—but it does hurt, there's always a string of hope we hold on to."

"I know. Hope is probably the most painful feeling—," James ran a hand over his face as a sign of stress and heaved a sigh. "always comes back and bites you in the arse, when you're least expecting it of all times."

"Hmm—what's your horrible love story gone wrong, I mean, we all have at least one, right?"

"Ah, yes. The woman I loved returned from the dead." Romane stared at him intrigued.

"How is that possible?"

"To put things more simple, we met through work and fell in love—she's one of those irritating finance people—with an ubelievingly complicated past. She was the victim of a crime and also forced to be an accomplice. She tried to commit suicide but didn't succeed because I intervened... I was so angry with myself and with her, I left thinking she was dead. In fact, they declared her so. A few days ago she walks into my home with a child on her hip and tells me she returned to see me and to apologize."

"And the child is yours?" James shook his head.

"Thank heavens no. Wouldn't know what to do with one." Romane chuckled, her lips were red from the cabernet.

"That's a lot to digest—what are you going to do about her? How do you feel?"

"I've no idea, I want nothing to do with her, as in, relationships and that sort of thing, but it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm no longer attracted to her. You'd think she'd be looking old and with soggy breasts now, but no, it's like she froze in time."

Romane laughed loudly at the breast part, her cheeks turning red. She tried to hide it with her hand and not disturb the guests in the other rooms.

"How old is she, sixty?"

"Thirty-eight I think."

"That's not old, I'm thirty-four myself." James shrugged with a boyish grin.

"I was hoping she'd turn out ugly so I could move on with my life..." Romane smiled and lay a hand on his arm. Her eyes were big and beautiful.

"How about we both move on, just for today?" She leaned in and kissed him and before Bond could barely register, they were on the bed.


End file.
